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 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Mourning doves at dusk,
Coo, harken what is to come,
Sun falls, new stars break.
 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Stars fell into day—
Burning in redden silence,
Leaves float on still lake.
 Jul 2013
Jack Piatt
Beautiful
Is a colorless flower
If I am to use it
Describing you
The wordsmiths
Must work well
Into the night
Smithing away
Until morning light
To find a word
Suiting your definition

Unearthing
Is a waterless brook
If used to convey the look
Radiating from your enchanting eyes
The same that left my heart wounded today
When you used them to drill to the core of me
No doubt making a profound discovery

Love*
Is overused and clichéd to ruin
Much too pedestrian to capture what you found
When drilling deep into my underground
Without a sound it happened
That word we can’t use
Due to its short and burnt up fuse
Turned on its light this afternoon
And in a magic moment we both knew

That beautiful, unearthing, love
Built a bridge between us
Founded in truth
Always open and fireproof

Today around 2 o’clock
(c) June 8th, 2013
(Tonight around 10 o'clock)
 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Stars in dust wasteland,
Seen once, every seven years,
Desert flowers bloom.
 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
.
In a swagger of swirl bones begin,
Bold artist looks back on kept time,
Fierce eyes fencing out from a pen,
So much soul reels unto scrim lines.
 Jul 2013
Jack Piatt
The “in” soon to meet the “evitable”
A conclusion infallible
Because
Tis true, tis true
It’s front page news
In the “Obvious Times”
Your failure to realize
Doesn’t minimize
The obvious
So let’s stretch that word
To
Oblivious
Cause that makes more sense
At least it’s a defense
Weak kneed as it may be
It certainly falls under
The Ex
Cuses
Category
So humor me
Do you see
Now
Do you see
Not yet
Okie Dokie
Annie Oakley
Let’s take another shot
How bout
A Story
Why not?
There once was a town
Where a man came around
Selling all kinds of
Potions and lotions
Devotions and notions
Despite his seemingly
Lack of emotion
They made him Mayor
Not long after the layers
Of Lies and greed began to grow
And wouldn’t you know
Though it rarely showed
The town grew tired
And wanted him fired
Longing for days of old
A stronger mold
Simpler times
Merrier rhymes
(less parking fines)
Smog free days
Guiltless lays
And poison free food
Put them all
In a better mood
Boy oh boy
Were those the days
Back before the smoggy haze
So we’re back to the beginning
Of this story I’m spinning
The “in” meeting
The
You know

“evitable”

Well
That is what happened
To that Colonial Captain
Who brought mischief
And what if’s
To that poor little town
He lost his crown
Among other jewels
He suffered fools
Then suffered
At their hands
So this story
Is a caution
to all distant lands
(and close ones)
The conclusion
Is always
Inevitable
When toying
With the table
Of Universal design
So don’t mess with nature
And all
Will be fine
(c) 2013
 Jul 2013
Jack Piatt
Pick it up
The off
Where you left it

Pick up where you left off

Walk behind yourself for one day
See what you see
Watch how you see it
You’ll be taken aback

Back before you left off

Close your eyes
Breathe quietly
Inward quiet
Not just outward
Now …

Pick up where you left off

There’s a secret
Living inside you
A bit of a paradox
Being it’s not a secret
If you already know
But that’s …

Back before you left off

The sky still looks the same
Thousands of years later
As you look up again
Same grin, new chin
Eager as ever, ready to …

*Pick up where you left off
(C) 2013
 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Morn shine rise painting,
Wild poppies untended,
Dew drops of the sun.
 Jul 2013
Seán Mac Falls
On the tablelands edge,
At dusk, severed lover sees—
Green hope turning gray.
. . . about Jules Verne's novel Le Rayon Vert (The Green Ray). According to Verne, when one sees a rare green flash at sunset - our own thoughts and those of others are revealed as if by magic.
 Jun 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Distance between us,
Countless tearing silences—
Loudest words unsaid.
 Jun 2013
Seán Mac Falls
We ran from the lights,
Stole away back to waters,
  .  .  .  Moonlit skinny dip.
 Jun 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Tea and cup, ready,
Birds in garden weaving dream,
Kettle wakes, calling.
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